Robert caught him under the armpits just before he slumped to the ground.
The next few minutes were hectic as Sasha hurried to get some warm water and soap. “Robert, get him in a chair. Take off his shirt, Mathilda,” she directed.
How had she gotten that job?
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Robert teased her. “I already saw you undressing him with your eyes.”
“I absolutely was not. Get real.”
Of course she had been. She couldn’t really blame herself. Any heterosexual woman in her position would have done the same—if by “her position” you meant “hadn’t had sex since she’d hooked up with the supply truck driver.”
She set her jaw and unbuttoned Lincoln’s black button-down shirt. Under it, he wore a gray t-shirt which was drenched through with sweat, pink with blood that had seeped through the bandage. She was honestly surprised that he hadn’t mentioned his wound. Why hadn’t he complained like a normal spoiled billionaire?
And another thing. She knew what expensive clothes looked like. Lincoln’s shirt was a perfectly respectable, high-quality cotton blend. But it wasn’t the kind of shirt she would have expected someone at his level to wear.
Had Lincoln Kerr fallen on tough times?
Maybe he didn’t wear his most impeccable clothing on a plane flight. That must explain it. That would also explain the tiny hole she found in his undershirt.
Then again, he’d just been through a crash. His shirt could have gotten torn. Amazing—he’d survived a plane crash in the jungle with nothing more than a pinhole rip in his undershirt. The angels sure were watching over Lincoln Kerr.
She ended up having to cut away his clothes with a pair of scissors, since he moaned every time she tried to maneuver his shirt over his head. When his chest was bare, she tried really hard not to spend too much time appreciating his smooth muscles and the way he had only a tiny bit of hair curling here and there.
He was in better shape than his pilot.
She glanced back and forth between the two unconscious men. The pilot laid out on the table had a more sculpted look to him. He was taller, leaner and, even flat on his back, somehow managed to look impatient.
Lincoln Kerr, on the other hand, looked completely relaxed in his unconscious state slumped in a chair. His legs were stretched long, his arms akimbo. His full lips were slightly parted, light snores snuffling through them. Robert had placed a folded towel behind his head to support it.
Her heart sank as she scrutinized the two of them. Even though they bore a certain resemblance to each other, she found Lincoln far more attractive than his pilot. And that…well, that sucked, because he wasn’t the first billionaire she’d encountered, and she’d vowed to never have anything to do with another.
This isn’t Bumble, she scolded herself. You don’t have to swipe on either of these men. Carlos will be back soon with the next supply run and you can stop lusting after random men you rescue in the jungle.
She noticed that Lincoln’s billfold had fallen out of his pocket. She crouched down to pick it up, while Sasha bustled over with her bag of tricks.
“Hold him steady while I clean the wound,” Sasha told her. “He might kick and scream a bit.”
Mathilda slipped the billfold into her own pocket, making a mental note to return it to him as soon as her hands were free. Then she gripped his shoulders while Sasha set to work. His skin was warm and slightly sweaty; she hoped he wasn’t getting a fever.
As soon as Sasha dabbed the gash on his arm, Lincoln came to with gasping groan. “What the…where…oh fuck.”
“Coming back to you, is it?” Sasha smiled. “Hold steady, please. We need to make sure this doesn’t get infected.”
He nodded, the automatic fight-or-flight response fading, replaced by the deliberate release of tension. Mathilda could actually feel it leave his body as he consciously relaxed. Impressive control, really.
Stop admiring the corporate billionaire.
“I’m rethinking this,” Sasha said. “We should use the sat phone to contact your people and let them know where you are.”
“I…uh…you don’t need to worry about that.” His jaw clenched as she picked out a piece of glass from the wound in his arm. “They already know. It’s all good.”
Mathilda and Sasha shared a confused glance. “How?” Mathilda asked. “There’s no service out there whatsoever. And the plane’s power was completely out. I saw the dashboard. It had no lights.”
“Well…” Lincoln swiveled his head to shoot her an arrogant look. “I shouldn’t even be talking about it, because it’s still in the prototype phase. But our company will soon be coming out with new nanotechnology that will transform communications.”
“Nanotechnology? Sounds fancy,” murmured Sasha. “Tell us more. We could use better comms out here.”
“It’s…sorry, but it’s classified. Military contract. Ow. Jesus.” He flinched hard as Sasha yanked another sliver of bloody glass from his skin. “Do you have something against the military? Or is it me?”
